


Riding With Eros

by MissFenixx



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, I mean, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Smut, Top Paul McCartney, a bit of a daddy fetish?, dominant paul mccartney, john likes being called a good boy, so even though he bottoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:46:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28782912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissFenixx/pseuds/MissFenixx
Summary: Paul rides John for the first time. But as things are, he will not relinquish control, being the dominant freak he is, and John finds himself in a situation he will never regret. He basically gets fucked by Paul – because technicalities don’t apply when you sleep with a sex god.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	Riding With Eros

**Author's Note:**

> If you need a reference of this Paul (or what I mean when I'm describing That look in his eyes), that ’65 David Bailey photoshoot with John will probably cover it. The waaaaaaaay he looked at the camera ohmygosh.
> 
> I should also clarify that this is my first smut so I'm very sorry.

Oh, the way he lowered himself on John’s dick.

The dazed, high look in his eyes as he took John by the back of the head, hand fisting his hair and dominant smell transpiring through his skin. The insolent look he shot him as he kissed him, as he threw him on the bed and made John watch him undress. The effortless sexiness of his posture as he unbuttoned his shirt and undid his belt, the fire cursing towards John’s groin as Paul grabbed him by the chin to kiss him deeply at the same time as his other hand directed John’s own towards Paul’s butt, squeezing.

The lopsided smile Paul gave him as his hooded eyes pierced him to the bed, completely helpless under the spell. The spell of Paul McCartney, the spell of the Eros on Earth. Cute, but sexy. Charming, but enchanting. He could smell the sex on him even before the party ended, before they made their way upstairs to their hotel room: he saw it in the way Paul stood with his glass of wine next to the girls, the way he held his chin up and his eyes looked down on them, hooded with want (and weed).

But oh, how good it was to smell it now, smell it on the sweat of his strong hairy arm now that Paul had gone back to fisting his hair, savor it in Paul’s hungry tongue, absolutely fall victim of it in Paul’s piercing gaze. His dark wavy hair curled with sweat on his forehead, his plump red lips parted and those eyelashes like a fan over his greenish brown, penetrant doe eyes… The smell of alcohol, weed, sweat and huskiness, and John just knew he had _a man_ looking down at him. Or really, that man _had him_. And now that he smirked with those red plump lips, and that he spoke with that husky voice that he got when he was really horny or really drunk (or both), John felt himself elevate to a different plane of existence: super-mega-horny plane.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to fuck me before?” Paul purred on John’s ear, shifting closer “Been thinking ‘bout it. But see, I really feel like fisting your hair like this, huh? Being on top on you. So, right now, I’m going to fuck myself with you, John. I’m going to ride you. Are you a fit ride, John?”

Speechless and rock-hard, John nodded, panting. Paul licked John’s jawline and slid on top of him, thighs straddling him.

“I didn’t hear you” he purred.

“Yes” John’s raspy, out-of-breath voice answered. He could feel how hard Paul was against him and he almost felt his mouth watering “Yes, please”.

He could feel Paul’s smile rather than seeing it “Good boy”.

John’s entire bloodstream ran to his groin and he moaned. Paul silenced it by kissing him again, tongue eating up all of John’s possible synapses as he rocked his hips down against John’s. They both groaned, and John hurried to free Paul’s delicious ass from his tight pants and underwear as Paul undid John’s shirt’s buttons.

Paul’s humping sped up when they finally got rid of John’s underwear, and they both moaned at the naked feel of each other. John, grabbing Paul more by his ass cheeks than the hips (he had a fixation on Paul’s ass, to be honest), scooted Paul as close to him as he could to hump him before breaking the kiss, mouth travelling down from Paul’s beautiful neck and collarbones to his nipples. Paul sighed and closed his eyes as John’s mouth licked, sucked, and bit on them softly. John gave a final flick to the second nipple, left red and swollen, before looking up into Paul’s deep, beautiful kaleidoscope eyes, and whispering as sincerely as he could:

“Thank you”

Paul gave him a lopsided, playful smile with that almost dimple of his but an honest, adoring look before muttering “Shut up” and kissing him whole again. He bit John’s lower lip quite harshly as he broke the kiss and searched around for the lube they’d left on the bed earlier, opening the cap and pouring a generous quantity on his hand. John raised his eyebrows.

“You don’t use half of that with me” It was an exaggeration, but Paul smirked. He had such a beautiful, captivating smirk when he was looking down at John like that, eyelashes ghosting over his cheeks.

“Your first time is long past, Johnny boy. I’m still a tight-ass, I’m told”

John had to remind himself that Paul was, in fact, very drunk as his boyfriend slid his hand up and down John’s length, making the guitarist gasp. When he was horny, Paul didn’t usually seem as drunk as he was, because that cute-faced boy used his inhibitions to appear adorable and approachable instead of the dominant freak he was. It was really hot.

And it was really hot as Paul slid his long fingers in John’s mouth for him to suck, and even hotter than anything else as he slid those fingers inside of his own asshole, rocking them in an out and breathing out tiny gasps an inch from John’s mouth. It was superb when he bit his lip and closed his eyes once he found his spot (with a speed that led John to believe this wasn’t the first time he touched himself like that: a thought incredibly arousing).

Oh, but he was the hottest of them all as he opened his eyes again and smiled, that lopsided playful smile and those piercing kaleidoscope eyes that screamed ‘I’m on charge’. And when he rose his hips a little, his eyes never leaving John’s, and his hand came down to find John’s dick, stroking him a couple of times before placing the tip against Paul’s hole, and the guitarist didn’t even have time to gasp before the beast he had for a boyfriend kept him nailed to the bed with those scorching eyes and said in his lowest, raspiest voice:

“Now be a good boy for me”

And he lowered himself on John slowly, relentlessly.

The waves of pleasure John felt when he met Paul’s tightness, the utter helplessness that came from Paul’s words, his hand on his hair, and the fucking order of the natural world, told him that even though it was John the one entering Paul this time, Paul had not lost an inch of his dominance. He was still on top; he was still in control. John was being fucked by a fucking god who’d decided he wanted his dick now, instead of his hole, and John felt divine.

He _would_ be a _good fucking boy_ for him.

Oh, the waves of pleasure as Paul (probably helped by the alcohol and weed) slowly got comfortable and started rocking his hips up and down, sliding John’s length in and almost out of him and gasping. John sat there, panting and completely overwhelmed by Paul’s manly smell, his movements, sounds; absolutely dominated as the boy fucked himself into him faster and faster, the thighs straddling him making him a prisoner.

“Hmm, fuck” Paul moaned, and John’s brain short circuited. Groaning, he grabbed Paul’s hips to move up to meet him, his mouth falling to suck at Paul’s collarbone. Paul gasped and changed the angle, shifting closer and letting his head fall near John’s ear, so John could hear it very clear when hit his sweet, sweet spot and a moan ripped from the boy’s throat. It sounded so musical, so sexy, like it was ripped from the boy’s soul, like it came from the deepest places of him, and John whined in response, growing impatient and hotter. He grabbed Paul’s hips to try to move faster, to pound into the boy, and Paul allowed it for a few thrusts, gasping, before he growled and grabbed John’s wrists, pulling his hands away and pushing John’s chest so he fell onto the bed. John gasped, surprised, as Paul leaned on him, all of his body built like a sculpture and moving like a feline, looking like a god as he frowned down at John from above and started fucking himself again at a fast pace that had John seeing stars. Paul was panting with his eyes closed and brow furrowed by the time John felt like warning him, and he couldn’t really say anything before the boy sank down his nails into the skin of his chest, made a choked moaning sound and leant down to speed up even more.

Eyes rolling into their sockets as the pleasure on his lower belly kept building up and Paul’s panting breath picked up speed next to his neck, hands now fisting the bed sheets, John groaned (it was almost a moan, really) before grabbing Paul’s hips once again and pounding in him at a faster speed. Paul’s tired legs seemed to appreciate it this time, though, as the boy sunk his nails even further in the bed and moaned in John’s ear, at the very edge of losing it.

John was at the very edge of seeing white himself when Paul lost it, moaning out half a gasp and muttering “Oh, fuck” before sinking his teeth down on John’s shoulder. It’s not that John got off on Paul biting him, but at the time of the happening it might have tipped him over the edge. Maybe. Paul’s ass was also impressive.

By the time John came back to his body, Paul had already fallen asleep on top of him, lips slightly parted and body slack. John smiled to himself with fondness, lifting the boy’s hips slightly to slip out and reach out for tissues.

He liked to think he’d been a good boy, overall.


End file.
